


Home, Again

by letbygones



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Insecurities, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Moving In Together, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25421782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letbygones/pseuds/letbygones
Summary: "We live together," Lio huffs, shaking his head in disbelief."We do," Galo says with a grin."We're going to fuck this up."
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 3
Kudos: 172





	Home, Again

"Friday!" Galo answers, when he's asked _that question_ again.

It's an answer that keeps changing, as days go by and work shifts end. Before, months ago, the answer wasn't _Friday_. It was _Idk, we'll see!_ as Galo shrugged and stuffed his face with breadsticks. It was _March, I think, but we're not sure yet,_ as Galo stretched himself out prone with a wrench in his hand and an engine above him. It was _Next year, actually, but that's okay_ — or _Shit, July! I think July_.

It officially became _August 2nd_ when Aina asked him over drinks last month.

"So, when's Lio coming back?" she'd mumbled into her long island iced tea. It was the same question, over and over, that everyone always asked. 

It'd been six years.

But this time, Galo had a solid date and a solid plan. He had an _August 2nd_ to hang onto, like a knot on a rope in the dark. He had a text from Lio, an add-roommate form to turn into his landlord's office, and a newfound sense of finality.

(Unfortunately, he also had a stupid idea and a stupid credit card. He'd combined the two together, and bought a stupid _something-or-other_ made of silver and meteorite. He hopes it'll fit.)

As days pass, things move more quickly. He's rearranged the living room (twice), wondering if Lio prefers the couch next to the windows or the wall. He's vacuumed, mopped, and dusted; filled the fridge with meat and snacks. Lio likes chocolate milk in particular, so Galo bought three gallons. 

They haven't seen each other since New Year's Eve, but Galo's grateful all the same. The spotty time they spent together came between speeches and protests, and though his partner was busy, he'd made it a priority to visit whenever he could. 

Every time, he'd text from a burner phone: _I'll be in town next week, are you free?_

Every time, Galo hugged him so tight his feet left the ground.

But now, in a few days, things would be permanent: Lio, somehow, accomplished everything he'd set out to do. He'd funded campaigns and founded commissions across four neighboring states. He'd lead coalitions, sit-ins, and fundraising drives, until others were steady enough to take his place. He'd set thousands of displaced Burnish up for success, and after six years on the road, there was— almost laughably— nothing else to be done. He wasn't their _last resort_ anymore, and that was a good thing, right?

_I'll be in town for a while. Know anyone with an open couch?_

On Monday, Galo's heart is jumping in his ribcage.

At the station, he can't escape the question— the same one he's been asked before, in various permutations. Remi leans against the kitchenette and sips a cup of water.

"When's Lio moving in with you, again?"

And finally, Galo answers "Friday!" with a nervous lump in his throat.

***

"I got you a couple towels in case you wanted your own. They're the green ones," Galo says, pointing at a stack on the couch. "Some new blankets too! I like the weighted one a lot. Oh! Shit! And some pjs—"

"So many gifts," Lio smiles, after he kicks off his boots. "You have no shame in spoiling me." He _fwumps_ down on a couch cushion, surveying the pile beside him. The first thing he picks up is a crocheted throw, neatly folded atop the rest of the blankets and towels. He turns it over in his hands, dipping his fingertips into the gaps between the yarn— and then he bundles it over both of their laps, August heat be damned.

"You cold? It's like, ninety out," Galo questions, hiding his concern.

"Not really. Just wanted to try it out."

Galo hums, unconvinced, but lets himself settle against Lio's shoulder. They press their weight into each other, neither speaking, as ambient sounds of bus exhaust and honking horns float in through the open window. 

Lio's wrist gently knocks against him.

"Is my toothbrush still in the bathroom?" he asks, as Galo laces their fingers together. There's a shyness to their movements, like they've forgotten how to love each other. The breath in Galo's lungs is heavy, but then they press their palms together, bodies remembering.

"Yeah, I gotchu. It's in the good drawer."

"As opposed to the bad drawer?"

"You know what I mean," Galo snorts, playfully bumping against Lio. "The clean drawer. Not the grody drawer."

"The condom drawer?"

"The nast— yeah, the one with the _stuff_ ," Galo huffs, squeezing Lio's hand. "I'll clean that out tomorrow or somethin'. Sorry for the bachelor pad vibes."

Lio laughs, voice deep and warm, and it's a home Galo's been waiting to return to.

"I could help you clean it out," he says, smirking. "If you'll let me shower first."

Galo makes a noise. "You hitting on me already, Fotia?"

"Efficiency is a virtue," Lio shrugs, resting his head against Galo's shoulder. "Besides, it's been eight months."

_And it's felt like longer_ , Galo thinks, with an ache in his chest. Sure, they text often; they have their work to keep them busy, and entire weeks pass in a blur. But through it all, not a moment has gone by without thoughts of Lio— his smart looks, his dry humor, his springwater smile when they wrestle or laugh or fuck up a recipe.

Their first kiss was on Galo's birthday, but with every reunion— after weeks, or many months— they have their first kiss all over again.

"I miss you," Galo says, brushing his lips against the crown of Lio's head. "A lot."

Beneath him, Lio sighs.

"I'm right here," he answers gently, before Galo lifts their hands up, still conjoined. He kisses Lio's dry, cracked knuckles, and then he darts his tongue against skin.

"Heh. You're sweaty. Go rinse off, dude," Galo teases, but his heart's a little lighter now.

"Fine," Lio smirks, grabbing one of the new towels. When he stands, his cheeks are pink up to his ears. "You better be naked when I'm finished."

***

When Lio passes out in the shower, Galo's almost got his underwear off.

The _thud_ is heavy enough to shake the floor, despite Lio's wispy frame. Shampoo bottles clatter against the tile of the shower stall, and Galo leaps into motion, bounding over to the bathroom door.

"Lio? Damn, you okay?" he asks through the wood, and receives no answer.

Luckily, there's trust between them now— the former rebel leader doesn't lock the door anymore. Galo jerks it open, and is greeted with the sight of one very unconscious Lio Fotia, crumpled over against the floor. The water's still running and his hair's slicked back, but all the steam's escaped now.

"Lio, c'mon buddy," Galo huffs as he kneels. He assesses the fall— he doesn't want to move him if he's hit his neck— so he pinches the top of his bicep instead, hard enough to wake him up.

Lio slaps his hand away.

"M'fine," he mumbles, with his eyes squeezed shut.

"The _hell_ you are," Galo grunts. "I think you fainted, dude. Can you understand me okay?" He leans over to shut off the stream of water, and Lio groans.

"Mmm. Yeah."

"Can you sit up? Are you good??"

"I'm _fine,_ " Lio sighs, pushing himself up by his elbows. "Just— got dizzy. That's all."

"Hot water'll do that to you," Galo shrugs. He bundles a towel around Lio's shoulders and carefully sits him on the toilet seat. 

"Maybe," Lio says, leaning his forehead against Galo's nearly-naked hips. He puffs out a breath of air that makes the man shiver. "I was prepping, to be honest."

"What?"

"In the shower."

"You were—"

"Getting ahead of myself, okay?" Lio bites, but then he snorts out a laugh. "I was breathless, and then I got dizzy."

Galo stops his hands— they'd been toweling off Lio's damp skin— and then his eyes go wide. "Oh. OH."

"Look, I just wanted to be ready for you," Lio admits, face flushing a deep shade of red. "I wanted to make it good, okay?"

"It's fine! Totally fine! I getcha," Galo says, trying tame his smile. "But, like, no pressure! No rush! We live together now. We can take our time with that sorta thing, y'know?"

Realization hits both of them harder than Lio'd hit the floor.

"We live together," he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"We do," Galo says with a grin.

"We're going to fuck this up."

"No we're not."

Galo rubs circles against Lio's back, trying to convince himself of his own words. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't worried— as the day of Lio's arrival crept closer, his guts got twisted and his throat closed up. The apprehension felt wrong— after all, this was something he should be _happy about!_ He's spent six damn years opening up to the guy, and his entire healthcare deductible learning how to cope (with change; with self-forgiveness; with learning how to forget the man that called him _worthless.)_

Sure, he knows he's worthy now. He can believe that, on most days.

But... what if things don't work out?

What if Lio— always explosive, always pushing the limits— gets bored? Feels boxed in? Feels a _duty_ to be here, or worse— feels _captured?_

What if Lio wants to leave, and Galo needs to let him?

Their eyes meet, and Lio's stare is clear and raw. 

_What if Galo can't give him everything he deserves?_

"We're _absolutely_ going to fuck this up," Lio reiterates, with a dry, scalding chuckle. He grips the rim of the toilet seat a little too tightly.

Galo sinks to his knees in front of him. He studies Lio's darkened eyes, the tired pits of skin beneath them. He counts familiar sun spots on Lio's nose, and memorizes new marks he hasn't seen yet. 

"Okay, yeah, we will," Galo finally agrees, huffing out a sigh. "But y'know what? I'm happy we get to fuck up. I'm _glad,_ Lio. We fuck up, we fuck up together." He tugs the towel a little more tightly around Lio's shoulders. "You n' me? We got one hell of a track record when it comes to destroyin' stuff. Lio de Galon, right? So, like. Maybe we can finally build something for a change."

Lio's eyes are shut now, with gentle little flutters and twitches beneath the surface. 

"And what would you like us to build together, Galo Thymos," he asks, blindly resting his palms on the other's chest. "What will you have me do next?"

Galo feels himself snuff out a laugh. He takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out.

"That answer's waitin' for you on top of your pillowcase." He fidgets for a second, letting his brain catch up to his mouth. "I mean. That's not a sex joke. I make some pretty good sex jokes, and you'd know if I were making one—" 

"Mmm-hmm," Lio hums, peeking up from under his eyelashes.

"And, like! You don't have to agree to it. The thing on your pillow, I mean. I know you just got here and probably wanna relax—"

"Mmm- _hmm_."

"Just! Go look! If you can walk— can you walk? Shit, do you need to go to the _hospital?_ —"

"Galo," Lio cuts in, and his tired smile is like sunlight. "Shut up and take me to bed."

And to his credit, he does.

He's nervous, though he'd never admit it. He lifts living legend Lio Fotia into his arms, bows his own neck as a handhold, and carries him across the hallway into the bedroom.

He kisses his temple, then gingerly lays him down on the mattress— _their_ mattress, in _their_ apartment, where everything finally feels new again.

Lio's eyes wander to the velvet box nestled on the pillow beside him. Inside, there's a stupid idea made of silver and meteorite, and to Galo's relief, it's only half a size too big.


End file.
